Pennsylvania on my mind

First, Harrisburg Airport. Then Indian Town Gap. Then State College. Then Mt Poconos. Then Scranton. Finally Philadelphia. My PA. Still on my mind and in my heart.

Pennsylvania was my second home. My incubator. It carried me forward, one yard at a time (Push them back, push them back, way..back ) through those hills and mountains, the golf course and the swimming pool.

Most importantly, the people and friends I made. Sunday afternoons saw us sing in various nursing homes (Couldn’t visit my father, stuck in Vietnam for 10 years – might as well visiting others’, to keep the world go round).

Every day saw me jogging the golf-course loop – 4-miles or 8. Your choice.

I signed on for work-study program, sitting in a tight sports equipment booth, handing out basketballs and handballs etc… or at the Journalism school library, reading Adversing Age before locking it up on dateless weekend.

My last three months of college was spent in Scranton, where I interned for ABC-TV 56. Not all news were glamorous e.g. garbage-workers’ strike etc… with one exception: we scooped the Three-Mile Island, our news break.

I feel the energy and adrenaline of today’s Philadelphia. Of plots thwarted and votes counted. Of anxiety and anticipation in Little Italy. Of apathy in the Amish area (what do you expect? one landline phone for the whole village) and lividness in Scranton, King Maker’s neighborhood (same as Hope near Little Rock, AK).

There are always railroad tracks and fences going through those poverty-stricken neighborhoods.

People spent money on fences and fancy drugs. People whose hope had dissipated.

Above all, they talk, whether or not the spotlight comes around for them: “how do you feel?” “did you shake his hands?”

Biden grew up in Scranton. I am sure WNEP-TV 56 will have an exclusive, the same as Kenya with Obama.

Scranton. Stuttering. Yet sees himself schooled and surged over the top.

This day, I feel proud, as if I still am a student intern. Living in the same set of clothes, for a few days, camping outside the State Capital Building, waiting for news break.

After withdrawing daily maximum allowance of cash, people fled. Middletown turned ghost town yet the media, marched in harm’s way (possible melt-down?) to cover the nuclear power plant mishap.

God knows, “we are leaving Thang behind to cover it live>???”. Yeah, right!

I was single at the time, with no insurance and no wage. An intern is expandable, remember!

But I felt the excitement and connection to world events. Like this night, via twitter and facebook.

No longer do we care where we are, geographically speaking. We are one. Humanity and decency in the balance and on the ballot.

Can’t let years of toilet-train be flushed down. We will resist and rise, as one. And let Christmas lights be turned back on, illuminating a sign that says ” under new management” at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Just as soon as the President is taking his rightful place in the arc of history.

Make it worth our while, son of Scranton.

Pennsylvania on my mind.